


you need him, i could be him

by machogwapito



Category: Now You See Me (2013)
Genre: F/M, One-Sided Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2013-06-09
Packaged: 2017-12-14 10:42:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/836016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/machogwapito/pseuds/machogwapito
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's doing it for her, and she is so beautiful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you need him, i could be him

**Author's Note:**

> I just recently came from the theaters and this scene wouldn't leave my head, so. Have at thee.
> 
> Unbeta-ed as per usual.

She comes to him.

She comes to him with guilt written all over and her lips pressed together, and he knows. He knows that despite it all—her strong facade, her cherry lips, her life put together like the greatest Lego masterpiece—she still loves the boy with the ego, and the boy will never love her back.

So when she comes to him, he touches her. For all the jokes he makes and all the blatant lack of seriousness, he touches her with a reverence that lets him see her heart stop. And when he says see, he does mean _see_ —it's in the ways her eyes water, the way her pupils dilate, and the way her lips part. She's breathless and gasping and scrabbling for a grip on his shoulders; she bites her lip and hides a whimper as he buries his face into her neck and pretends he doesn't want to mark her.

She feels like _something_ against him, but the word he's looking for isn't perfect.

They couldn't be perfect when the name she whispers at the end of it all is one that starts with the letter D.

And when the adrenaline fades and they're left panting, he lets himself pull away to press his forehead to hers. In these moments, he allows himself a moment of indulgence, and in her blissful fatigue she only pulls him closer. Her breath is on his ear. Her body is warm, soft, and inviting. She pulls him into a kiss, but all he tastes is saltwater.

She breathes a thank you—her body shakes, her fingers tremble, her nails make light little pink marks on his back—and then she leans away from him.

He tries to memorize her like this: her hair flowing over the pillow, the sheets rumpled beneath her weight, her cheeks flushed with activity, her legs tangled with his. He tries to memorize her and he knows he'll never quite get the image right. He knows he doesn't deserve to.

When he leans over, he whispers in her ear. In another life, another universe, perhaps he could tell her he loves her.

Instead, he cleans her up. He fixes the sheets. He erases every trace of his existence from her room.

_"When I snap my fingers, you're going to fall asleep. And when you wake up, you'll forget any of this happened."_

* * *

On the jet, he jokes about it. Sells himself. Says he's willing to be her fuck toy if she wants him to be.

She laughs about it, and he laughs with her.

When she comes to him that night, it's the twenty-seventh time.


End file.
